


Nobody Knows

by saidno1ever



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Humanstuck, Sadstuck, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saidno1ever/pseuds/saidno1ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee has a secret that only his best friend knows</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Knows

It hurt, but that was okay. If there was ever a time where getting hit didn’t hurt, then something would be wrong. The fact still doesn’t stop you from crying or putting your arms up like they would provide a source of protection (which they don’t).

Your dad just grabs your skinny wrists and pins them above your head. Now he is angry. Or angrier. He spits curses in your face and beats you twice as hard with one meaty hand. You try so hard not to scream, you really do, but the pain set off a defense.

The only way you keep from completely breaking is by thinking it will be over soon. And after a while it is.

Your dad leaves you lying curled up on the floor, sniffling quietly and mentally trying to repair yourself. The moment you hear a door close, you uncurl and stumble to your feet. You barely feel it when your head smacks into the window pane, because suddenly everything is so very dreamlike.  
You don’t remember the long walk from your house to Karkat’s, nor do you remember nearly getting ran over, twice.

By the time you plop down under Karkat’s window both of your knees are bloody and your feet are caked with mud, but you don’t notice either of those things. Instead you lie in the wet grass and quickly succumb to sleep.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

It’s the third time this week you’ve found Gamzee under your window. Each time he manages to look a little rougher and a lot less sane.  
You poke him gently from inside your bedroom, observing his disastrous makeup and all the new bleeding wounds. He always says that his dad never uses anything other than his hands, but it’s moments like this where you find it hard to believe him. It wouldn’t be the first time Gamzee’s lied to you.

He wakes up slowly, swollen eyes opening only halfway. The two of you stare at each for a full minute before you realize that Gamzee is having a hard time recognizing you.

“Gamzee, it’s me; Karkat.”

Finally his expression lights up and he smiles, “O’hey bro. When’d jou get ‘ere?” His words are slurred as he sits up, revealing that half his face is covered in mud. That fact doesn’t seem to bother him as much as it’s bothering you.

“I live here, Moron.”

“…Oh yea…” Gamzee makes that dopey expression that he’s been beginning to make a lot more frequently.

You force yourself to sigh angrily and comb your fingers through your hair, “I guess this is the part where I get the hose.” And you do.

You both stand in the backyard for half an hour, Gamzee bracing against the side of the house, and you hosing him down. Afterwards, you wrap Gamzee in the usual blanket and you both head inside.

 

You hate Gamzee’s dad. You’ve never even met the guy, but you’d sell your soul to see him hang. Gamzee, on the other hand, acts like his dad’s abuse is some twisted form of love, and you honestly aren’t sure if he believes that. Last time you tried to explain it, Gamzee got angry. In fact ‘angry’ couldn’t even begin to describe how mad he was. He threatened to rip out your throat for one. He threatened to do a lot of things that had you backing against the wall. Gamzee had also been screaming pretty loudly. Your parents hadn’t been home, but your older sister had and she’d burst into the room in a fit of panic. Gamzee disappeared for four weeks after that, not because your sister told him to, but because… well, you still aren’t sure why.

Gamzee smiles as he munches on the Pop tarts you gave him. It’s seven in the morning, so you aren’t eating, but you sit and stare at the wall as you listen to him yammer about nonsense and miracles.

After breakfast, Gamzee takes a nap in your room while you sit beside him, lost in the morning’s silence. You really don’t know what to do with him anymore. You aren’t even sure how much longer Gamzee will survive. His mind is going, from all the head blows he’s taken and you know he needs serious medical help.

Why is it so hard to tell someone about it? Why is it so hard to explain that there is a huge gap between being loved and being abused?

You just want it to stop.

You just want your best friend back.


End file.
